April 24-30; How About Some Popcorn With Your Fat?

By WILLIAM GRIMES

Published: May 1, 1994

Correction Appended

The scariest thing at the movies isn't Jason or Freddy Krueger. It isn't even Mickey Rourke in a dramatic role. It's popcorn.

In a report released last week, the Center for Science in the Public Interest, a national consumer group that specializes in food and nutrition issues, announced that the popcorn sold in the typical movie theater absolutely drips with unsaturated fat, the kind that raises blood cholesterol and clogs arteries.

The culprit is not the popcorn itself but the superfatty coconut oil that most theaters use to pop it. That and the butter -- hydrogenated soybean oil in most cases -- that's drizzled on top. A medium-size buttered popcorn, the report said, contains more fat than a breakfast of bacon and eggs, a Big Mac and fries and a steak dinner combined. The report was published in the center's Nutrition Action Healthletter.

"Theater popcorn ought to be the Snow White of snack foods, but it's been turned into Godzilla by being popped in highly saturated coconut oil," said Michael Jacobson, the center's executive director, lobbing this carefully composed sound bite at a press conference.

The bad news in the report was delivered with an unmistakable "this will curl your hair" delight. Invoking the deadly Big Mac measure of comparison, it announced that a large unbuttered popcorn had the saturated fat equivalent of six Big Macs. With butter, that's eight Big Macs. The report did not say what happens to moviegoers who like to eat Big Macs along with their buttered popcorn.

Lest readers think that relief can be found elsewhere at the concession stand, the center also published charts of the fat and sugar content of the most popular candies. The findings are grim: 34 grams of "sat fat" in a box of Goobers, which is even worse than the 29 grams in a small buttered popcorn popped in coconut oil. The recommended daily maximum of saturated fat is 20 grams.

The methodology for the popcorn part of the survey was simple. The center bought popcorn at 12 theaters representing six chains in San Francisco, Chicago and Washington and then sent the samples to a laboratory. Then it compiled a chart showing the grams of fat in the sizes generally sold in movie theaters, setting up categories for popcorn popped in canola shortening (bad, but not as bad as coconut), coconut oil (very bad) and coconut oil with butter topping (buy a burial plot now).

At the Popcorn Institute, a trade group that represents popcorn suppliers, they're putting on a brave face. "We don't think people are going to run screaming from the building because popcorn is sold," said Deirdre T. Flynn, a spokeswoman for the institute. "If you eat it as a little indulgence now and then, it's not going to kill you."

Ms. Flynn has a point. The average American sees five movies a year. Even if a medium popcorn is a fat festival in a box, is it reckless endangerment to indulge five times a year? "It all adds up," said Jayne Hurley, who wrote the report. "A small unbuttered popcorn is an entire day's worth of artery-clogging fat."

Although the center often seems like the kind of outfit that would publish a scorching report on cakes and ale, Ms. Hurley said she does not want to deny America its small pleasures. Popcorn prepared the low-fat way, either in corn oil or air popped, is great. "This is a simple thing to fix," she said. "All it requires is an oil change."

Easier said than done. Popcorn is in our fat-laden blood. The Popcorn Institute won't go so far as to say that its product was served at the first Thanksgiving, but it comes darned close. "There was a corn that was kind of puffed," said Ms. Flynn.

Popcorn is not just another snack -- it's a national icon. Last year Americans consumed an average of about 65 quarts each.

And now we find out that one of our most traditional foods, served at one of our great institutions, the movie theater, is a secret assassin. More Than a Snack

This is a cruel blow. Who wants a superhealthy box of air-popped popcorn, sans salt? It's like snacking on virtue.

Perhaps some alternative approaches deserve exploration. Theaters could alert an usher trained in CPR whenever a customer orders a large buttered tub. They could also offer, at a modest surcharge, on-the-spot life insurance, like that sold by airport vending machines. Or customers could qualify for extra butter by working out aerobically for 20 minutes on a Nordictrack in the lobby.

Some of the hipper movie houses have dropped popcorn from the menu altogether, offering espresso and fruit juices at concession stands that fairly glow with good health. This may be the wave of the future, but the American public might want to think twice before signing on. When Steven Seagal starts stacking the bodies like cordwood, a primal urge strikes. The right hand begins moving, and what it's groping toward is a waxed cardboard cup brimful with little salted white puffs that drip with butter.

That's entertainment.

Correction: May 8, 1994, Sunday An article last Sunday about the poor nutritional value of movie house snacks misstated the type of fat used by theaters to pop corn. It is saturated, not unsaturated.